


Overwhelming Presence

by NicoleWasTaken



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dominance, Drugs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Forced Sex, Hair Pulling, Loss of Virginity, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, Rape, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Inexperience, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sleep Groping, Sleep Sex, Slow Build, Smut, Submission, Teasing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, obsessed, virgin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 00:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21311371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoleWasTaken/pseuds/NicoleWasTaken
Summary: When you, a new survivor find yourself in the deadly grasp of the Doctor himself, will you succumb to his desires?"I have chosen my reward""I will allow it."
Relationships: Herman Carter | The Doctor/Reader, Herman Carter | The Doctor/You
Comments: 55
Kudos: 251





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for reading my story!  
It's my very first Herman Carter x reader story so I hope you will enjoy it!  
I hope I managed to portray his character well and would appreciate your feed-back and thoughts about my work. 
> 
> Thanks again for stopping by!

Dust particles danced through the air as the smell of blood, ashes and electricity wormed it’s way through the facility. Countless papers were scattered among the measureless bits and pieces of medical equipment, most of it already rusted and broken; unusable. The glimmering tubes on the ceiling already laid in their last breaths. Their cold, sterile light flickering in and out of existence as quick feet navigated their way throughout the maze-like setup of the rooms. 

Panicked eyes scanned each room, looking for something, really just anything to calm their fluttering heart. Hushed, flat breaths were the only thing to give away the tiny figure maneuvering the shadows.   
You were nervous, hands shaking, wary of touching anything, not wanting to leave any traces behind or accidentally reach into fresh warm blood left behind by your fellow comrades. You weren’t much of a fighter, way too anxious to be one. It felt like you were about to throw up, for the longer you spent in this place, the tighter the knot became within your stomach. You weren’t familiar with this place. You would have loved nothing more than to curl up and sit down in a corner; to be killed and have it over with. And if it wasn’t for your friends who desperately relied on you, you would have done just that. You bit your lip as a crow settled on a broken window beside you. It’s red eyes seemed to stare into your very soul as you froze in your steps upon hearing the deep, heavy breaths of this realms executioner. 

You gulped, your mind imagining what this one would look like. Would he be as deformed as the Coldwind’s butcher? Would he be as impressive in stature as Haddonfield’s stalker? Would he take as much joy in hunting you down as the once reputable MacMillan heir? 

Unable to move you kept on staring into the crow’s ruby eyes, the foreboding humming and unnerving steps of this tormentor sending chills down your spine that bit your very bones as he carefully, agonizingly slowly scanned the halls and rooms he went by. It was almost as if he wanted to startle those he hunted into running, into giving themselves away and send them spiraling down into madness. 

It felt as if he held your nerves tightly in his grasp, stretching and pulling them mercilessly as he came closer. A scream was building up in your throat, your body wanting to vent the tension it has been building, but being denied this luxury by it’s very owner as you begun biting your lip once more. Blood trickled down your chin as your teeth buried themselves in the tender flesh of a rosy and abused lip. You almost didn’t sense the pain you caused yourself, for all your senses went into overdrive as adrenaline entered your blood, numbing your nerves and urging you to run. 

Your lips were pressed together, body shivering under his suffocating presence. You shut your eyes tight, knowing that he was about to see you, his steps already close to the doorframe that led to your room. Yet, your legs refused their service. You expected a hit onto your back, a knife to the throat, anything but the old tubes of light giving up their duty and hiding your shivering frame in darkness.   
He lingered at the entrance of the darkened room. His eyes searched the room, observed it, took in any abnormality and still failed to notice his prey. You didn’t dare to turn around, yet knew that he was standing there, looking at you, but not seeing you. You could feel his burning gaze on your neck as he took in a deep breath, the melody of his song changing into a slower, calmer, almost warning chime. Electricity fizzled along the ground, tickling you as it entered your body, making you feel like thousands of needles were poking your skin. The man took a step into the room, draining your scared self of the newly found hope, yet continuing to cling to the possibility of him just walking by. 

The crow squinted it’s eyes, already opening it’s mouth to scream and give away the cowards location. However, the birds screech fell on deaf ears as the howl of a generator went off in the distance, making the killer turn and give chase to whoever fixed the machine. 

You sunk to your knees, body shaking violently as the tension that kept your muscles tight and unmoving left you. Your pupils dilated, your body high with the last kicks of adrenaline as you watched the crow puff it’s chest and fly away. If you would have actually eaten anything before you were brought here, you would have thrown up on the spot.   
This was too much to bear. True, only about a dozen days passed since you were brought into this sick game of cat and mouse, but you couldn’t imagine ever mustering up the courage to play it proper, never mind getting used to it.

“You okay?” a soft voice questioned behind you. A little hand went in to gently squeeze your shoulder, to offer comfort and compassion, for you were on the verge of crying out of raw and brutal fear. Your gaze was met with both pity and worry when you turned to face Claudette, whose face was still sprinkled with blood from her last trial. You nodded at your friend, gulping down the upcoming whimper and instead appreciating her empathy. “Come on. Let’s move before the crows start gathering around us.” Said the frizzle-haired woman offering a pained smile while lightly, yet urgently tugging at your sweater. Claudette grabbed you by your hand, squeezing it tightly; signalizing that she would stay by your side and promising that everything would be alright. 

“thank you” you murmured as you settled by a nearby generator. “No worries” replied the medic, her hands starting to work the motor. Neither the bloodied imprints on the machine nor the red footprints leading away from it seemed to put Claudette off her game. Meanwhile as the engine started buzzing gently, the metallic taste of plasma filled your mouth. The smell of ones most important fluid being too obtrusive for you to ignore. You swallowed it down bravely, your eyes wandering the messy room one more time before going in to help fix the generator. Knowing what was at stakes you could not allow yourself to make mistakes, however, you never fixed anything close to what you were working on. 

A scream tore the air apart, causing both of you to jerk. The voice was riddled with agony and turmoil. “Dwight” you whimpered. 

Knowing that your nerves were about to be ripped apart by despair, Claudette whispered soothingly “Just a bit more. We’re almost done”. Your eyes were filled with dread as you prayed that the sizzling wires you held were the right ones. You could not fail your friend. You gulped, pressing the cables together, but instead of being met with the siren of the engine, you were greeted by flying sparks and soot filled smoke. You winced at your mistake, your hands quickly grabbing another set of cables, trying to undo your mistake in an instant. Claudette, however, was quick to tug you by your collar as the oppressing sound of heavy steps came closer, seemingly drawn in by the loud mishap. You felt yourself being shoved into a locker as Claudette gazed at you wistfully before sprinting into the opposite direction, intending on luring the killer away from your location. 

You once again felt your body picking freezing over fight or flight as your tender muscles tensed, your back pressing against the harsh old wood inside the locker. The hum the hunter emitted seemed now much more joyful, a bit impatient and followed by a few lunatic chuckles. He was close. You could barely see anything though the thin slits inside of your hiding spot. The electricity seemed to return, to once again enter your body and devour you from inside out. You clenched your hands into fists in an attempt to keep them from shaking as you caught a glimpse of the one you were pitted against. He was as impressive in size as the masked stalker you encountered in previous trials. However, he seemed to be dressed much more accurately, much more… classy if you will it. 

His black leather shoes reminded you of the Oxford shoes your teachers used to wear, his dress pants seemed in immaculate shape and the red tie around his neck looked perfect. There were no wrinkles to spot on either his shirt or vest. However, his lab coat was riddled with blood stains, both old and new. It was his face, however, that reminded you that he wasn’t a fashionable gentleman. The sight of the contraption and what it was doing to his face caused a whimper to escape your bloodied lips. You inched further against the wooden wall, feeling the rough texture pierce your delicate skin as you were unable to tear your eyes from his visage. His mouth was forced into a bizarre smile by the same apparatus that held his eyes wide open. His iris emitted a bright white glow, as sparks danced around the cables embedded in his skin. From all the executioners you were pitted against so far, none had quite this brutal effect on you. You couldn’t pinpoint what about him scared you beyond limits, but you knew, you felt that you wouldn’t be able to put up any kind of fight or chase. Where other killers triggered your most primal instincts, most utmost desire to run and hide, he suffocated those urges at their very core with his overwhelming presence. Maybe it was the agonizing irony of his appearance matching a doctor’s and this place resembling a hospital. Maybe it was your lack of experience that bound your feet, for while the others were no doubt scared, they somehow always managed to keep their composure. 

For a split moment his gaze fell upon the locker that hid your quivering frame. Your tiny heart clenched, skipping many beats as morbid thoughts danced though your mind. Your puny hands reached for your face, pressing them against your mouth to both self sooth and contain your voice. 

The tall male buried his hand deep within the machine, yanking out dozens of cables shortly after. He tilted his head to one side, causing his neck to crack as his eyes wandered through the room looking for traces of his victims. 

Your heart ached from the strain of beating ferociously against your chest. Your lungs quivered, begging for you to take in deep, fast breaths in order to keep pushing oxygen through your veins. Everything hurt, everything ached, you wanted nothing more than for it to be over. Your stomach twisted and turned, your head was spinning and the electricity that seemed to follow this mans every step felt as if thousands of teeth were biting every single inch of your skin. 

He tilted his head to the other side, another crack echoing through the room as he decided to head into the same direction Claudette went. A sigh crawled past your lips, relief flushing though every fibre of your being. Your hands went to open the doors of your hiding space, your heart racing at the thought of him returning. But you knew that you had to finish what you started in order to support your comrades, and therefore you took a few anxious steps towards the once again broken machine. Your fingertips had already reached the cold metal of the generator, your mind fixated on the task ahead when a big hand grabbed the back of your sweater and pulled you back. 

He spun you around, his hand clasping around your throat as he roughly pushed you against the white tiled wall. His bat hit the tile next to her face, breaking the plate and causing the shatters to scathe your right cheek. You found yourself being lifted off the ground, your muscles ceasing to function and freezing solid once more. Your hands went instinctively towards his around your neck, yet not actually trying to pry his fingers from your skin since you didn’t want to make it any worse than it already was. 

He expected you to trash and scream. His hand ready to send shocks through your body, curious as to what your voice will sound like. He noticed from the very beginning that a new face entered the ring, your innocent, naïve aura spread through the whole facility, notifying him of your existence. And while he enjoyed playing with the fragile minds of whoever dared to set foot into his territory, particularly breaking the will of the most doe-eyed among them, he knew what effect he had on new prey, therefore willing to let you slip from his deadly grasp and allow you another chance at escaping, for hunting something that isn’t able to run is regarded as not very favourable by the entity. He knew that you were in that darkened room, for he saw your little body slip right into the chamber. To say that he was surprised at your initial reaction of freezing in place would be an understatement. If it wouldn’t have been for that trusted crow sitting at the window, indicating your presence with it’s hungry red eyes, he would have overseen your trembling frame entirely and just figured that you slipped away. He could have sealed your fate right then and there, but he chose to humour you and hoped for a proper chase you were to regain your composure. 

Besides, he was no one to disappoint the entity by slaughtering helpless victims. Killing an unwilling survivor had once earned him the entity’s wrath, and he wasn’t about to earn it another time.   
If you would have waited but a second more before leaving the locker, he would have not been able to notice you at all, instead following the deliberately put marks from another survivor, certainly put there to throw him off into following the unfortunate soul altruistic enough to put their life on the line like this. But he was no fool, he has been playing this game for far too long to not know the ins and outs of the survivors mindsets, therefore double backing just to make sure he didn’t allow another lost lamb to come out of hiding and finish the machine.

And there you were, serving yourself on a sliver platter to him. 

But in that moment you didn’t move, you didn’t scream. Not even your lips parted to attempt to make any kind of sound. Your bright eyes stared right into his, filled with horror, glassy from the tears collecting at their edges. He watched your narrow, scared pupils dilate, no doubt as another rush of adrenaline washed through your veins. He had others freeze in his grasp before, he knew that out of all his kin, he would be the quickest to break the survivor’s minds, but not quite this quickly. It was as if your most primal instincts weren’t kicking in, be it your mind telling you to be docile in order to avoid pain, or the tremendous despair disabling your most important instincts. Seeing someone that unwilling to protect themselves ceased his bloodlust, causing annoyance to take it’s place. There was no enjoyment in slaughter. If mindless butchering would have been what he craved, he wouldn’t have come to the entity’s realm. And while bloodshed did indeed get his gears working, a good chase and a challenge were what truly got his blood pumping. 

His grip around your throat tightened, making it even harder to draw breath as he decided to hit you against the tiled wall, not enough to disorient this little head of yours, but enough to elicit a yelp from you, hoping that the pain was enough to convince you into escaping him. 

A high-pitched wicked laugh escaped his mouth, his other hand dropping the weapon to join the first around your throat to hit you once more against the wall when the desired objective wasn’t fulfilled. “Interesting” he thought, contemplating on how to deal with you. Killing you right now would no doubt make him fall out of the entity’s good graces, more so if he just lets you escape. He growled, not knowing if their overlord was going to punish you for your lack of participation itself, or if he was expected to make you fight for your life. 

Another howl close by applied more pressure onto the former doctor. Time was running out and all of the survivors were still alive and well. 

An idea popped into his mind. Long before any of the current survivors arrived the entity would grant him to keep certain survivors in his realm, be it for his research or his own pleasure. He had not asked for any such favours in a long time, simply being tired of having to keep a whining, screaming, fighting person around. He conducted most of the research necessary to bring his power to perfection a long time ago, rendering a permanent subject to keep track of unnecessary. But he’d be lying if he said that he wouldn’t want a warm body to mess around with, to satisfy his primal desires and break up his boring and monotone lifestyle. It’s been a while since he had a girl all to himself, beaten into submission and to his mercy as he fulfilled his primitive needs. 

His grip loosened, allowing your feet to fully touch the ground again. “She’ll do” he thought as he grabbed you by your hair, causing you to shut your eyes tightly and tears to start rolling down your cheeks as your whole body continued to shiver, unaware that now would be the perfect moment to make a run for it and clueless as to what to do in that situation. 

Not only would he slip out of this peculiar situation of falling out with the entity no matter would he kill or spare you, but he’d have someone around to keep him company during the cold nights in the facility. Besides, if he grew tired of you, he could easily end you and send you back to wherever your friends dwelled when not in a game of hide and seek, allowing you to re-enter the cycle of trials.   
Another, loud laugh escaped his lips as he demanded you as his reward from the entity. 

You could not tear your eyes from his face when his cold hands crushed your windpipe, suffocating you within moments as he pressed you flat against the wall, his body against yours to make sure you wouldn’t be able to draw breath. His glowing, eerie eyes, his distorted features and that menacing laugh would haunt you for many nights and dreams to come, but you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t relieved. The horror ended, you were free to relax, be it for a moment. However, you were unaware of the deal your murderer made, and that this time you wouldn’t wake up at the campfire among your new peers, but in the place you had been feeling the most vulnerable and scared up until this point.


	2. Chapter 2

You expected to hear the cracking of burning wood once you woke up. You expected to feel earth, leaves and branches upon your awakening. Expected to hear the voices of your friends and the comforting sounds of the forests wildlife. 

Instead you found yourself on a cold, thin mattress. There were no voices, in fact no sounds but the buzzing of the lights above you. You couldn’t smell the earth, neither the tell-tale scent of open fire. Instead the smell of bleach and disinfectant was to penetrate your nose. 

You groaned, your throat feeling sore and dry as you fought to keep your eyes open. It felt as if you suffered from a heatstroke, painful pulses in your head rendering you in agony as immense heat overtook your body. Your eyes struggled to make sense of your surroundings as they seemed blurred and behind a thick layer of fog. 

Anyone who has been roofied or abused heavy medication before could have told you that you were recovering from a strong dosage of drugs. 

You took in a deep breath, your lips parting to call for help, but only allowing a mewl to escape your mouth as you tried to lift yourself from the bed. It was then that you felt the coarse leather around your wrists that bound them to the bed next to your hips. Panic begun to set in as your mind cleared, occasionally a pained whimper or cry would escape your lips as you tried your best to regain full consciousness. 

Only when you regained the ability to process your surroundings you started to realize that you, in fact, never left the last trials realm, realizing that you were still trapped in the doctors facility. 

The room was small and clean, apart from the dust. A window to your right would have offered you the comfort of natural light or even an escape if it wasn’t for the fact that it was barred up and because of the time of day there was no light to dance into the room. It seemed that apart from your bed, a desk and stool to your left the room had no more furniture to boast. 

This, however, only served to unnerve you even more, for the white tiled room and penetrant lighting made you feel put on the spot, claustrophobic and even more trapped. You tried to wiggle your hands out of the handcuffs, but you gave up when your skin was almost torn by the rough material of your restrainments. 

Dozens, if not hundreds of thoughts spun through your head as you forced yourself to breath steadily. You gulped, the sensation of your neck muscles moving causing you great discomfort, for the hand shaped bruises on your skin were far from healed. 

“Claudette” you attempted to call out, your voice, however, no more but a whisper “Meg… anyone?” 

You bit your lip once the familiar sound of heavy footsteps and menacing humming returned. Your rosy lips were still sore and tasted of iron from the previous abuse inflicted on them, but you couldn’t help it, secretly hoping that the pain would snap you out of this sick dream. You whimpered as you once again failed to lift yourself from the bed, instead ripping the band aid from your cheek as you writhed in the sheets, causing warm blood to taint your face and pillow. 

The steps came to a halt right in front of your door, the humming being replaced by a chuckle at your faint and pathetic sounds of resistance and fear. He knocked, three times in fact before letting himself in. 

And there he was, the man who strangled you the last time you crossed paths. His grotesque features still instilling unreal amounts of dread in you. It seemed as if this forced smile of his was mocking you, for a smile was usually a sing of joy and comfort, but this one, this once was a sing of pain and suffering. 

“I see you came to your senses” he said as he slowly made his way over to you. Instead of his trusted weapon he seemed to carry a box filled with utensils. You dared not make another sound, nor move a muscle, instead staring up to your tormentor. Was this still part of the trials? You wondered. 

He moved closer, now standing right next to the bed causing a wave of panic to wash over you again as your breath hitches and body starts trembling. Your eyes spied a blade among pens in his front pocket. If you were to guess you would say that you were on the verge of having a panic attack, or a heart attack. Possibly both. 

“Now, now” he said, his voice deep and calm, yet unsettling something deep within you that made you want to die, for real. Anything than this inferno of despair. “Do not fret. Make a fist for me, would you?” he said as he opened the box and pulled out a syringe filled with translucent liquid. The needle seemed longer than your index finger and the sight of it send tears to your eyes and chills through your spine. 

You looked at the syringe, then at his face and back at the equipment, not knowing which sight scared you more. You opened your mouth to ask what it was, but once you noticed the impatient look in his eyes you decided to not push your luck. He hasn’t done anything to you, yet. And you would rather not have him inflict more pain on you like when he did earlier. So; you complied, turning your head to the right as you clenched your left hand into a fist, knowing that you could no longer stand the sight of the needle nor the male.

Not even a second passed before you felt the needle pierce your arm and enter your vein. You felt the cold liquid being pushed into your shivering body. Before you knew it, the trembling subsided and numbness overtook both your body and mind, a warm fog caressing your soul as your heart and lungs calmed. And yet you found yourself still being able to think somewhat straight. 

You turned to face the man that had both the power to inject you with dread as well as take it away. The sight of him and what he might do was still unsettling, yet not causing you to fall back into a stress induced stupor. And now that the medication disabled your fear, therefore the sight of his distorted face not causing your body to tremble and avert your eyes, you found yourself able to examine his features with utmost care. It seemed as if the contraption on his head caused him pain, for the edges of his mouth were sore and bloodied, his sclera red from lack of liquid and strained by the strong lighting of this place. The strange cables embedded in his skin seemed just as uncomfortable, also drawing blood from where they entered and left his skin. Electricity danced alongside those wires and if you were to guess you’d say the burns and scars stemmed from the very electricity he used on the survivors. It were the veins in his arms that looked to most painful to you, being an unnatural black as if they were charred beyond saving, barely pumping any blood, explaining why his hands were so cold. You wondered if he could even feel his hands in the state they were in. 

He took a seat in the stool next to the bed, putting the syringe back into the box and instead pulling out another band aid. 

“That should make it easier to converse. What I gave you is an anticonvulsant, a sedative, since you seem so prone to panic” he started as his attention shifted towards the wound on your cheek, the look in his eyes shifting to a somewhat annoyed gaze at the fact that you tore the bandages off .“That was not very civil of you. You should be grateful for me tending to your wounds” he said in an unpleased manner. His fingers were quick to get a hold of your face before you had the chance to evade his grasp. He placed the band aid on the wound again, eliciting another yelp from you, finding his icy touch incredibly unpleasant. 

“You are a docile one. Others would have cursed me out by now”. He brushed his finger over your arm down to the leather that held your hands hostage, checking if your restrictions were tight enough. “But I suppose if it wasn’t for your affliction you would have done so as well” 

And if you did, he would have not been as polite with you as he was. He decided to play along for as long as you were not showing any signs of hostility towards him. 

“Others? Claudette…?” you whispered, worrying that they were just as trapped as you. Was this really part of the trial? How come they didn’t warn you then? His wicked smile seemed to grow wider as a laugh build up in his chest. “No one here but you” he responded as his hand toyed with your handcuffs as if contemplating whether to tighten them or not. “But where are my manners? You might address me as Dr. Carter. And what shall I call you?”. 

If it wouldn’t have been for the fact that you were trapped in an endless game of death and despair, never mind actually being tied to a bed, and the man next to you wouldn’t have been the one to strangle you earlier, you could have mistaken this situation for a mundane stay at the hospital. But unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. 

“Y-y-y” you stuttered, your mind unable to wrap itself around the absurd situation you were in “Y/N”. He nodded, continuing to observe you, his fingertips now gracing over your bruised throat and applying pressure on some places, checking the extent of the injury by judging your reactions. You wanted to ask him to stop, but you were in no position to make such demands and not brave enough to risk tilting the killer next to you. 

Your gaze shifted towards his clothing. The coat he wore and both shirt and vest were riddled with blood. Your heart skipped a beat, yet the drugs kept it from beginning to race against your chest again, refusing to allow you to panic again. There was not a single doubt in your mind that the blood belonged to your friends. For a moment you could not help but fault yourself for their demise, thinking you should have been more careful and done a better job at pulling your own weight. 

You were alone, abandoned and at the mercy of Dr. Carter. What was it he wanted from you? You wondered, fearing that you were to be tortured and or to become a subject to this misguided doctor. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, your fingers digging into the sheets, anticipating an answer you won’t like.

“Not if you behave yourself”

“Is this still part of the trial?”

“You have a lot of questions little one, but no”

“Why am I here then?”

“For my entertainment and pleasure of course” the enthusiasm in his voice was hard to overhear, and made his statement sound like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You could not help but gasp, your lip quivering at what this meant for you. You prayed to every god and even the entity for this to be a joke, a nightmare, a sick television show with hidden cameras. Right when you thought it couldn’t get any worse, that there was nothing worse than being trapped in an endless game of cat and mouse you had to be proven wrong.

A deep rumble within his heaving chest brought your attention back to him, and his hand that was now resting atop your chest. His brows furrowed, at least as much as they could with that contraption keeping his face in an endless grinning stare. “Your heart is flying. Not enough anticonvulsant?” he mumbled, his other hand already reaching for another syringe and bottle of drugs. 

“I-“ you started meekly, ready to beg for mercy, yet being cut off by the knot in your throat. You could feel it, your heart beating ferociously against your ribs, your lungs quivering in overdrive and dark edges beginning to form in your sight. You felt yourself falling back into panic in spite of the medication given to you. But who wouldn’t after being told such wicked intentions? 

“Have I scared you?” he chuckled, preparing the syringe, instead of the translucent medication from before using a pale blue one. You struggled, your scared eyes staring up into his glowing orbs, begging him to not do what you feared he intended. 

“No! Please!” you cried as he grabbed your arm tightly, keeping you from wiggling and possibly messing up the shot. 

You felt the thin needle against your skin. 

“Will you stop if I scream and curse you?” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks only to be soaked up by the pillow underneath you. 

A sting. The needle entered it’s desired location. Whatever was contained within the syringe now entered your bloodstream. 

“I will do as I please regardless of your actions. But if you struggle things will get a lot more unpleasant for you” 

You watched him loosen his tie, his figure seeming so far away, yet so close. You felt the mattress tilt as he begun to position himself atop yourself. 

With every second passing your sight became more and more blurry, vividly coloured dots dancing in the room, making you unable to focus on anything but the male towering above you. And with every breath you drew your body became limper and weaker. 

The look in his burning eyes resembled the predatory gaze of a lion staring at his next meal. 

“please” you whispered, even this little word causing you more exhaustion than running for hours. “It will be over before you even notice” he hummed, pulling your sweater above your chest, revealing your undergarments to him. You felt his frosty fingertips on your stomach, drawing circles and tracing your tender skin, occasionally letting small shocks of lightning travel through your body, adding to your hazed state. 

It was when his hand grabbed one of your breasts that you found the power to resist once more. “I don’t want this” you mewled, pressing your legs together and attempting to once again escape your restraints. It was a feeble attempt, but putting him off nonetheless as he grabbed your legs and forced them apart with an unpleased grumble, positioning himself between them and grabbing the rim of your pants. 

He had intended to wait until you had fully lost your consciousness, sparing that tame little mind of yours at least this time, but now that you did show resistance he was no longer going to, wanting to begin right this instance. There was nothing he hated more than disobedience, and in his mind you were no better behaving then the last girls he had tied up for his pleasure. Granted, by this point they had cursed him, his mother and the entity out, some even kicked and punched him, many even bitten by this point, but he wasn’t a very patient man and had decided to punish you out of principle. 

The only reason he decided to go easy on you before was that you were really pliable. If you had shown as much resistance from the start as the others did, he would have taken you by force, not bothering to patch you up or ease your pain and fear with medication. He would have flipped you over by now, taking you like a hound would his bitch, possible breaking a few ribs and strangling you in the process. After all he was known for his easy temper and tendency to loose all etiquette when he was falling into this primal state. 

“It-“ you tried again, barely able to keep your eyes open, your body feeling heavy and unmovable. You felt his breath on your face, his hands roaming your body as tears continued to stream down your cheeks, your breath rapid and flat. You felt the air hitting your exposed legs as your skin begun to once again feel like it was prickled with needles. Fingers ghosted over your core as something firm poked your inner thigh, hearing his breath beginning to speed up as well. “It’s my first time” you finished, a foolish attempt to have him spare you.

A menacing laugh was all you gathered before being consumed by a hazy darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

“A virgin” he cooed mockingly while sitting in an armchair in his office. Stacks of papers and files sat atop his desk, many in horrid shape, requiring to be copied so the information wouldn’t be lost. At least a handful of mugs and cups were to be found among the documents. He never found the time to clean up, prioritizing going over old notes and maintaining his reports in proper condition. 

The hot and bitter contents of his cup swayed as he brought it to his lips, contemplating your fate. 

Your pathetic attempt at discouraging him from his actions did work and quite amused him if he was to tell the truth. Yet he did wonder what he should do with you now that he spared you once more. 

Flicking his tongue his mind wandered back to all the other times he had mercilessly forced himself on little lambs like you. There was no greater pleasure than taking another’s virtue, and it wouldn’t have been his first time to take it by means of violence. He was a wicked creature after all, even before coming to this realm. The entity, however, was to blame for enhancing his sadistic nature and in turn making hunting and torturing that much more enjoyable for him.

He took a sip of his coffee to calm himself, for the thought of a helpless little lass and a tight cunt excited him. Your pleading, desperate eyes, your futile attempt to struggle against him sent heat down his groin, making it pulse with lust. After all, “no”, “please” and “stop” sounded more like a challenge and an invitation to him rather than a request to stop his actions. He regretted not having had his way with you earlier, considering going back to your room and satisfying his desires while you still slept under the drugs influence.

Sighing he leaned back and caused the old furniture to squeak underneath his weight, the still sane part of his corrupt mind keeping him from doing just that. 

He reckoned you would be a good fuck, for you were so much smaller in size than him and on top of that tight, untouched and by far the most compliant one. 

And while he did take great satisfaction from beating a struggling victim into submission, he did savoured not having to put up with another fighting and ill-mouthed slut.

However, he doubted that you would stay this meek for long, attributing your docile behaviour to lack of experience and familiarity with this crooked place. His previous experiences lead him to believe that with a little time you would get acquainted with your circumstances and resort to fighting him to get yourself out of this predicament. 

His grin grew wider, having decided that he was to take you when you would eventually show hostility towards him. Or when he grew tired of waiting. Whatever was to come first, for he did bring you here to entertain him after all. But for now he was to be satisfied with fooling with you fragile mind and body without actually defiling you. 

He downed the remains of the brew, looking forward to this little experiment of his. He did truly wonder how long it would take for your tame persona to crack. 

“Rise and shine little bird” 

His deep voice penetrated you very bones, awaking you from your dreamless slumber. Your eyes and cheeks felt sore from your salty tears and reminded you of the horrors you faced the day before. At least now the window did offer you the warm and soothing light of the sun. Was it morning or noon? You couldn’t tell from this position and it didn’t really matter since time seemed to flow differently in this realm. It could be a bright day back in the forest by the tents and campfire, but at soon as you were to enter a trial the sky could be as dark as coal. 

Your gaze was met by his everlasting stare looming above you, him seemingly being in a good mood. Your eyes darted toward your abdomen, expecting to feel pain and see bruises on your legs. Your expectations weren’t met when you neither felt pain nor saw your exposed legs, them being covered by your pants again. Your head, however, was still spinning and your limbs heavy with exhaustion, feeling the aftermath of whatever he gave and or did to you. You wanted to cry, yet your body was to tired to produce tears, to drained to send adrenalin though your veins and have you consumed by panic again. 

You felt his big hand on your back as he helped you sit up as you were no longer bound to the bed by your hands, but your ankles. The coldness of his touch left you shivering as his hot breath against your skin made you feel vulnerable towards his advances. 

He held a glass of liquid in his other hand, offering it to you. It could be water, you thought, yet not sure with him having access to all sorts of drugs. 

“What is it?” you asked boldly, painfully aware of how dry your throat was and how desperately you needed to drink, yet refusing to open you mouth as he brought the glass to your lips. 

“reasonable question” he remarked, his hand not budging from it’s position, still urging you to drink.

“there is only one way to find out” 

Your tongue felt like sandpaper, begging you for any sort of liquid. Regardless of being shaken by your previous encounter and mistrusting the liquid you had no fight in you muscles from the drug weakening them and not enough courage to resist. 

“good girl” he hummed, the tone of his voice triumphant and foreboding as you downed the liquid, your tongue failing to make out any taste. 

Your eyes found his glowing orbs again, looking up at him like a lost kitten, worrying that you might have ingested more narcotics. 

“It was just water” he said, his eyes crazed with delight as he toyed with your mind. Oh yes, how he missed instilling paranoia in others.

You could not help but feel your lips form a slight pout as you realized that your worry was unwarranted. You averted your eyes once again, looking down at your abdomen and feeling shame and humiliation digging their way into your mind. 

“what have you done to me?” you muttered, your fingers clawing the sheets to steady yourself and not fall back into a catatonic state. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know” he teased as his slender fingers found your thighs and caressed them slyly. 

You nodded sheepishly, clinging to a thread of hope as you secretly wished to not hear the answer and be validated in your concerns. 

“What do you think I did?”

“You raped me” you blurted, tears welling up in your eyes as your voice cracked mid-sentence. Your last memories lead you to believe that that was exactly what had gone down once you lost consciousness. 

The look in his eyes was frightening. They seemed full of ecstasy and mirth. It was as clear as glass that he took great enjoyment from tormenting you. The worst thing however was that he seemed to hold in a laugh as he spoke: “I did no such thing”.

You almost felt relieved, however, doubt still nested within your mind as you were unable to make any sense out of his actions or words. The image of him mere inches above your face, his hands all over places no one had ever touched you before leaving you feeling disgraced by the whole situation. 

“Why should I believe you?” you asked, your voice bitter and quiet, overtaken by emotions. 

“Because I have treated you with nothing but kindness so far” he said as his hand wandered up your spine until grapping you fiercely by the back of your neck. 

“However, I can treat you differently if you wish” he said, his voice now much lower and angrier; warning you. 

You shake your head before your mind has the time to comprehend his threat, not wishing to suffer at his hands. He dwarfed you by all means after all, towering you by at least three heads, if not four. His broad shoulders let him appear as if he was an impenetrable wall of muscle. You didn’t doubt for a second that he could break your neck with a flick of his hand, nevermind force your fragile body to obey his vicious desires as he had proved the day before.

By now you figured that if he wanted you dead, he would have killed you by now. The knowledge that he sought something else from you had disgust and helplessness settle within you. What you couldn’t understand was why he just didn’t get it over with already. Perhaps he did wish to torture you before after all.

“why are you doing this?” you sobbed, the realization of how forelorn your situation was hitting you like a brick. 

You would trade anything to leave Dr. Carters iron grasp. The trials that had you wishing for home, for the sweet release of death now seeming like a welcome alternative. You’d rather have your insides ripped out by the Hillbilly, rather step into MacMillan’s traps a hundred times over than awaiting your Captors eventual violation of you.

Maybe you could have dealt with him administering shock therapy upon you, slaughtering you over and over until your soul would cry for the entity to take you. 

But this predicament was too much. 

It was too much to know that you would be his toy from now on. 

Too much to wait for his somewhat friendly demeanour to crack and for him to ultimately dishonour you many times over.

If your body wouldn’t have been under the remaining influence of the drugs, it would have no doubt started to send adrenalin again and have you hyperventilate. 

“You seem quite distraught” he stated as his eyes devoured every single one of your scared glances and movements, your powerlessness turning him on. 

“How about we clean you up?” he asked as his hand gently, yet unwaveringly grabbed your face, brushing away the remaining tears with his thumb. 

It sounded more like a command than an offer. 

You murmured a weak “yes”, not knowing what else you could do but comply. Sure, you could scream and thrash and try to resist him, but what good would it do?

There was no budging this wall and you were not keen on being beaten or raped. 

He raised himself from the chair next to you, his eyes glued to yours as his stature casted a shadow on you. He was quick, skilled even, at undoing the restraints around your legs. Yet he held them still, not allowing you to fling them from the bed before sending you a warning look. 

Your knees felt like they were going to give in as your feet touched the ground. By this point you couldn’t tell whether the medication or the stress was to blame. 

However, by the time you had steadied yourself and convinced your legs to move he was already by the door and holding it open for you like a proper gentleman as he watched you struggle. 

“Do I have to carry you?” he mocked; half annoyed at your incompetence, half amused by your sad state. 

“N-no” you said as you made your way over to him with the grace of a new-born deer. 

He shoved you in front of him, pushing you into the direction he wanted you to go and striding behind you. He was waiting for you to make a run for it.

Not that it would do you any good of course. He was still a very smart man despite his deranged mind and had locked all the doors that would lead to another part of the facility, thus trapping you in this small part of his turf. By allowing you to walk several feet in front of him he was simply tempting you to dare and escape; ready to strike you down if you were to take that chance. 

Somehow the corridors seemed off to you. They were oddly clean in comparison to those you saw during your trial. And while there were some cracks in the floor and wall tiles, there was no blood, no mummified corpses, no hooks and no generators to spot. 

You came to a stop in front of a green-ish door. You wanted to reach out your hand and open it, but your captor was quicker, holding it open for you once more. For being such a perverted individual, he sure was well-mannered. You could not but wonder where he stemmed from, since the last time someone held the door for you was your grandfather at your 10th birthday. Chivalry was dead, but apparently not where he was from. Another thought came to mind; what if he has spent more time here than you assumed. From what you’ve gathered no one aged in this realm, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch to consider that he originated from a time where gallantry wasn’t extinct. Judging by his choice of clothing you’d put him in the 70’s, maybe 60’s. On top of that shock-therapy was the hottest trend during that period of time, explaining his affiliation with electricity. But if that was true it would mean that he had spent an awful amount of time here. 

Another shove by none other than the Doctor himself brought you back to reality as you half stumbled into the room. Unlike your room this one boasted a bit of colour, the floor tiles being a light blue. The bathroom somewhat reminded you of a communal shower, not unlike those at summer camps or community pools. They were segregated by walls between each showerhead, allowing for a little privacy, yet not having a sliding panel or door in the front to close off entirely. There were cabinets with integrated sinks right across each shower as well as a mirrors. You noticed that there was a single towel on one of those cabinets along with white cropped pants and a polka-dotted, pale blue shirt. 

“undress” commanded the man behind you, tugging at your sweater. 

“W-wi-with you here?” you blurted, instinctively crossing your arms in front of your chest to prevent your sweater from being snatched. No way. 

He tilted his head to the side, continuing to pull at your clothing. 

“I can’t” you muttered as all colour faded from your face. You were just as scared as you were embarrassed. You didn’t like this setup, not one bit. To say that gruesome thoughts came to mind was unnecessary. 

“Don’t act coy. I’m a licenced doctor”

You stared up at him, doubting his professionalism. “But-“ you tried again, but were cut off as he tore your sweater from your body. 

“I will do it myself” the declared in an impatient manner as he threw the torn fabric to the ground, his hands reaching for the clasp of your bra, in turn pushing your tiny body against his as his arms wrapped around you to rid you of your clothing. Your undergarments hit the floor before you had the chance to even press against his chest or mutter a single word of protest. 

His hands pushed onward, tugging at the rim of your pants, getting them off of you just as easily. 

Your mewls and pleas to stop were like music to his ears as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your undies, your last layer of clothing. “The grand prize” he chortled in a delighted tone as with a flick of his hand you were completely exposed to him. 

His eyes were filled with hunger as his icy fingers drew patterns into your hip. His eyes devoured every inch of your scar-less skin. You lived a sheltered life, so much he could tell. There were no scars from accidents or previous abuse or illnesses, no indication of you having faced difficulties in your previous life. Not to forget that you were still unsullied. 

He was sure to change that soon.

It always excited him to see the scars and wounds he inflicted upon others, for it made him feel in control of them. The markings of his hands around your thin throat aroused him, and he could not but want to have your hips bruised in a similar manner, your chest adorned with markings of his teeth, your voice hoarse from strain and your writs broken from grabbing at them during the frenzied act of fulfilling his desires. 

Soon enough. Soon enough he would do all those things to you. 

“Make sure to do a thorough job” he said as he let go of you and indicated to pick one of the showers. 

You gasped at his antics, covering yourself with your hands the as best as you could muster. There were no words to describe the utter horror that drenched every fibre of your being. It was completely and utterly humiliating. You wanted him to stop staring, him to not have undressed you in the first place, but you couldn’t even form a single word. Even if you were to demand your privacy, you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to enforce it if he wasn’t going to give it to you. 

“Please… just-“ you said, hoping that there was still a bit of goodwill left in that cruel heart of his. But he wasn’t taking to kindly to your holdup, his shoulders tensing as his eyes begun to fill with anger. “Do I have to help you?” he asked, emphasizing the word “help” and giving it a much more sinister meaning. 

You bit your lower lip again to keep the tears from rolling as you picked the shower furthest from where Dr. Carter stood. “just get it over with. Do it quick. Pretend he isn’t there. And then…” you thought as you tried to calm yourself. However, the thought of what was to come then did the opposite of pacifying you. What was to come then? Surely he wouldn’t just let you leave after all that since he made his intentions of having you around very clear. But how could you accept your fate? How could anyone, knowing that they were to be a toy at another’s hands, deal with such knowledge? There was no way to fight him, no way to leave. Nothing but waiting for it to be over, if it ever was to be over. It was maddening. 

Your breath hitched again as your heart started beating against your poor ribs. Your fingers shaking as you reached to turn the water on. “Pretend it’s a television show. You two are just actors. None of this is real” you attempted again, hoping to find anything, no matter how absurd, that would soothe your snapping nerves. 

Lukewarm water poured down on you and for a moment you imagined being back home. You imagined coming back home on a hot summers day and stepping into the shower, washing yourself with your favourite brand of shampoo, pretending that none this ever happened. You were never snatched by the entity, and you weren’t standing bare before a man that’s only use for you was his own sexual pleasure and sadistic games. 

The thought made your lips curl into a content smile as the water hit your face, calming your body and soul. Maybe that was your way out. Just diving into your memories and fantasy’s when he was to inflict pain on you and therefore shelter yourself from the horrors. A silly thought considering you tried this in a trial before. The results were meagre, you not able to even think as soon as a cleaver slit your back wide open. 

You rubbed your arms, your stomach, face and whatever of your back you could reach with the soap provided by a shelf in the shower. You brushed your hands through your hair, untangling them and beginning to feel somewhat grateful for this opportunity. It has been a long time since you got to do such a mundane thing. 

You turned the shower off, sighing as your memories and fantasies slipped away, leaving you in this godforsaken place again. 

Your just settled down heart was made to race again as you felt yourself being pressed against the wall in front of you. As soon as your exposed skin, your sensitive chest, was to touch the cold tiles, goose bumps begun forming all over your skin. The hands that roamed your body were equally as cold, making you wince in discomfort. 

He had pressed you against the wall. It were his hands caressing your tender chest and the mound above your core. You gasped at his touch, his fingers creating a feeling of dread you have never felt before. His breath was hot against your neck as he bit your naked skin. 

“Stop” you begged, yet his hot mouth and teeth didn’t stop abusing your skin. 

“Please” you cried, hot tears swelling from your eyes like a waterfall as your voice cracked. But his fingers didn’t stop pinching the delicate skin of your breasts. 

“No…”you whispered, desperately trying to push yourself away from him, as he grinded his hips against yours from behind.

Small shocks formed beneath his calloused fingertips as the hand above your core inched further downwards and the one that fondled your chest reached for your mouth, forcing your lips apart and his finger inside; keeping you from talking but allowing your mewls and cries to escape.

He knew that he was pushing you towards the edge. He was trying to get you to crack and fight him, the sight of you arousing him too much to keep his hands from you. He was waiting for you to bite his fingers so he could suffocate that very resistance and do all those unspeakable things to you.

“Relax, or it will hurt” he mumbled as his hand reached your core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting feisty!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT

“Dammit” you cried, your mind spinning, nerves raw. 

His fingers brushed over your clit as he rubbed himself against you. It felt horrible. His touch created sensations you’ve never felt before, and not in the good way. You wanted desperately from him to let go. You were unable to move or do anything but sob and shake in his vice like grip. 

Yet your cries were not working in your favour, edging him on further as he pressed you mercilessly against the wall, feeling the muscles of his chest tense against your back. 

Your mind wrapped around the idea of biting, of escaping; of stepping into his trap. 

Of course he would love nothing more than to shove himself right into you and fuck you raw right this instance, but he was one to follow rules, even if he was the one to set them up in the first place. And quite frankly, he enjoyed toying with you in this way; letting your mind run wild with fear as he watched your feeble body react to its first sexual stimuli. It would be fine by him if you were not to bite him, for he gained enough satisfaction from watching your mind fall apart as you realized that there was nothing you could do. However, he would call it “the cherry on the top” if you were to participate in his little game by retaliating against him. 

You winced and grabbed at his hand in an attempt to get him to release you from his grasp, yet all attempts were in vain. The tall man behind you grumbled in annoyance, his grip tightening around you. His teeth sunk in deeply into your neck as you felt his fingertips at your warm entrance. A bolt of electricity accompanied your desperate cries, your fingers dug into the tiles and saliva dripped down your chin as you could think of nothing else but the desire to die. 

Warm blood trickled down your tender chest. 

Would your body and mind not have been fixated on that vicious hand between your legs you would have certainly screamed out due to the excruciating sensation of blunt teeth cutting through your flesh. 

His hot breath against your delicate skin, his faint smell of aftershave, his heavy chest against your back, the bulge in his pants against your backside and his fingers at your core had every atom of your body in overdrive; transforming every single bit of spare protein your body could muster into adrenalin. 

Your heart beat quicker than you have ever experienced and your breathing became rigid and heavy as your chest heaved and your hands begun shaking once more. You could already feel your grip on reality loosen as the hormones in your body started rendering your mind numb and encouraging your feral instincts to take over. 

You cried meekly, already starting to accept the fact that there was no way of stopping him save for biting down on his fingers. And while the part of your mind that was beginning to succumb to instincts urged you to do just that, the rational part of it cautioned you to refrain from that action and save yourself the pain of punishment. 

You shut your eyes tightly when you felt his tongue lap up the thick red liquid streaming out of your wound. 

God how you hated it. 

The Tiles and his hands had lowered your temperature so that now his tongue felt burning hot against your skin. “Just endure it” you told yourself, wishing that Claudette would be here to tell you that everything was going to be okay, or better even: whishing that this would all stop. 

You gasped when one of his fingers pushed past your entrance, now even infecting your insides with his cruel cold and infuriating electricity. 

There was no enduring this. It hurt. Your body was clearly rejecting him by attempting to deny access by clenching your lower muscles. However, this natural reaction to being assaulted backfired. The man you were dealing with easily forced your flesh apart and created more pain by doing so than had your body just relented. 

Humiliation would be the best word to describe what you felt at this moment. 

“Your tighter than expected” cooed the man that caused you to feel all of those horrid things. It seemed that your pathetic display of helplessness caused the bulge in his pants to grow as his teeth continued to mistreat your already injured neck. Your voice was once again allowed to form words as he removed his fingers from your mouth, your sticky saliva dripping from his digits as you felt his other hand withdraw from your lower lips. “Do yourself a favour and keep quiet” he said positioning his lubricated fingers at your core, his other hand now wrapping around your throat. 

His thumb began circling your sensitive clit as his fingers slipped inside of you, his erection eager to spread your insides like his finger did this moment. He continued to grind himself against you more keenly as his calloused digit slipped deeper inside of you by the second.

“Stop! It hurts!” your cried as he penetrated your genitalia. A soft chuckle escaped his mouths at your plea. He pushed his finger in all the way, tearing at your soft walls and eliciting a sharp yelp from you. “I told you too keep quiet, didn’t I?” He asked, his voice so much deeper and menacing than before. A sharp pain in your abdomen caused you to scream in pain, for he had thrusted another finger into you and stretched you apart even further. Yet he did not offer you the luxury of adjusting to the new circumstances and your vagina being filled like that, instead pulling his icy digits out and thrusting them back in with a force that was enough to get your knees weak from the jolt of pain this action created. Yet it was his cruel grip on you that kept you from falling.

Sure, you touched yourself before, but what you were feeling right now was unlike anything else you ever felt. Never had you been so stretched, never have you felt that cold and so much pain in your abdomen. 

If you weren’t bleeding by now, you were sure that you were going to if he was to keep up that brutal pace. You wanted to scream, to cry and tell him to stop, but you couldn’t. You struggled to breath and you didn’t want to agitate him further and have him do worse things than this. Another thrust of his fingers forced a muffled cry from you, your sight blurry from the waterfall of tears. His grip around your throat tightened, no doubt from your involuntary disobedience of his order. Another shove of his fingers and another distressed whimper from you as your bit your tongue to suffocate the sound.

All this twisting, pulling, thrusting, shoving. It was to much. It hurt, and it hurt in the worst way possible, for those hurting parts of you were your most sacred and private ones. 

His hand shifted back to your mouth, his fingers slipping past your lips and making it harder for you to obey his order as his thumb send jarring jolts of electricity through your clit. 

You bit down. 

Not on purpose though, it were his horrid actions that caused your jaw to clench.

Yet it didn’t make a difference. You’ve opened a gate into a new arena, an arena that was much more unendurable than the last one. 

And suddenly all movement ceased. 

Your heart stopped for but a second as agonizing silence filled the room. 

Now you’ve done it. 

If there was any hope of him sparing you to begin with, it was certainly gone now. 

“I- I-“ you stuttered, yet unable to finish as he let go of you. You fell to your knees as you turned your head to see the man towering above your shivering bare body. The look in his eyes was animalistic, and your blood trickling down his chin made it worse. He looked now so much more like the crazed monster from the trials. It seemed as if every bit of humanity that resided in him had vanished, leaving behind a sadistic pleasure-seeking beast. 

“Stand up.” he commanded, his voice filling the room like deep thunder as his chest heaved with either abysmal anger or rotten excitement. You couldn’t tell the difference. Maybe it was both. 

You whimpered as you complied, instantly backing into the wall and trying to get as much distance between the two of you as possible. You found yourself holding your breath when you saw his shoulders tense. 

“You have bitten me” he stated as he stared you down like a cat would a mouse. His voice, oh god, the worst thing was his voice. It wasn’t filled with rage at all. No annoyance, no dissatisfaction.

It was calm and deep; the embodiment of the fear you’d feel when staring down into the abyss. 

It was the kind of voice one would expect the reaper to have; devoid of empathy and foreboding.

“Can’t have a little patient bite their doctor, now can we?” he said as he removed the tie from his collar, simply disregarding it on the floor along with his lab-coat. “I’ll teach you some manners” he finally declared as he stepped closer to you again, his big body pressing against yours once more. 

He would make sure you’d get roughed up properly, already excited from the idea of the blood you’d shed when he’d shred your hymen. 

His breath caressed your pale face as your glassy eyes begged him to spare you, to have just the tiniest bit of pity and refrain from pushing himself onto you. 

You’ve heard the tell-tale sound of metallic buckles being undone, yet you could not bare to look at the origin of the sound. Your little hands went up to his chest in a meagre attempt to push him off of you. There was no moving him. He stood as unmoving as a boulder, bending your body to his every whim. 

“Are you going to hurt me?” you asked, your voice cracking as he lifted you from the ground. You clawed your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, your mind on the verge of hysteria. 

He spread your legs so far apart that for a moment you feared he might dislocate your hips altogether.

A knot began growing in your chest, squeezing your heart and making it harder for your lungs to draw breath. You felt something scorching hot rub against your entrance. You bit your tongue to brace yourself for what was to come, deep down hoping that it would wake you up and reveal that all of this was but a fever dream.

“Possibly. I do intend to fuck you until you forget your own bloody name” he stated, the grip on your thighs tightening as reached his desired position with him pressed flat against you and your poor cunt ready to be slid down onto his length. 

You still couldn’t bring yourself to look at his member, fearing that seeing it would make it worse.

It throbbed against your core, the tip already spreading your entrance further apart than you could have ever imagined. 

There was no foreplay, no slow delicate insertion to make it easier to bear the agony. Nothing to soothe the pain he inflicted on your body and wounds he tore into your innocent soul. 

You screamed as he rammed himself into you, tearing at your fluttering walls, shoving so far into you that his tip bumped into your cervix. The sensation of your insides being penetrated this violently send jolts of pain through your body, paralyzing your muscles and making you strengthen the grip you had on his shirt. Your lip quivered as meek sounds of sorrow and whimpers of pain escaped them, your eyes drained of tears, yet miserably glassy.

You felt his heartbeat against your chest, felt how eerily irregular it was beating against his ribs as a pleased rumble build up in his torso. His body didn’t offer comfort, his muscles being strong and hard. 

Underneath your palms his body felt like stone. 

Unyielding, cold and heartless.

He didn’t give pause before starting to rock his hips, dragging and shoving his length inside of you and creating sensation of utmost discomfort and friction you were sure would damage your sensitive tissue in unimaginable ways. You screamed out at him tearing your walls apart, at him hitting your cervix with every barbaric thrust and breaking your hymen the process. 

You lacked words to describe what he made you feel. It burned, it ached, it prickled and throbbed all at once. You finally turned your face to look at the place both of you connected during this unspeakable act of violence; watching blood trickle down from where he entered you.

You could have never imagined to have your virginity taken in this fashion. 

Not even moments after entering you he had already begun losing himself in his pleasure and therefore causing the electricity within his body to leak and infest you. It sizzled alongside his hands, making your thighs feel like they were under attack by thousands of ants. But even worse, his length sent the same sensation through your abdomen, somewhat numbing the pain and intensifying the friction created by him pushing in and out of you. 

“It hurts!” you cried as you pushed at his chest again, hating the warm feeling treading alongside the pain, scolding yourself for even comparing the feeling to pleasure. You felt warmth build up on your décolleté, your face and abdomen, slowly but surely turning into a whirlpool of heat and tingles.

“That’s not all you feel” he claimed, his eyes scanning your feeble body as he rocked his hips back into you with atrocious ferocity. “That’s not true!” you whimpered as the pain rendered your whole body shaken. He didn’t doubt that you were in excruciating agony. He had done this too many times to believe otherwise, yet he knew that this amount of stress and overexposure to electricity made it easy to blur the line between pain and pleasure. 

His mouth once again begun targeting your skin, nibbling at your ear and jaw as the strength he entered you with seemed to increase. “Please stop!” you cried out as you felt him bump against your insides even more ferociously. He grunted as your walls clenched around him in response to being abused so violently. Yet this action didn’t do you any favours, making the friction more intense, sending your mind into a dazed state as a quivering moan escaped your rosy lips. Another, more strong current of lighting travelled though your spine making your head spin as you started a mental tirade of self-abuse because of how wickedly your body was reacting to his actions. 

“You don’t really want that” he grumbled breathily, having noticed that you were much easier to slip in and out of by now, revelling in what he was doing to your helpless self. 

He grunted into the crook of your neck as he seemed to lose all rhythm in his thrusting, his hands grabbing so intensely at your thighs that he would for sure leave another set of markings, if not break your femurs. With every throb and every shove, he dug himself further inside of you, driving the both of you closer to insanity. 

You hated everything about this. You would rather feel the pain of him tearing you in two than forcing you to enjoy what he did to you. You hated that your body broke at his commands, at his whims and cold-blooded actions. 

If it was only the pain you could put all of the blame on him, but your body not being able to distinguish pain and pleasure made this experience all the more jarring. It had to be the stress, it had to be his powers that made you feel similar things to when you would pleasure yourself. It simply had to be his fault. Believing otherwise would surely break you at the very core. 

A high-pitched yelp escaped you as he seemed to shove further into your cervix, making the pain return tenfold and your fingers tense in response, holding onto his shoulders as your nails dug into his flesh, making tiny red dots appear on his shirt. 

He drew in a sharp breath, his thrusting slowing down for but a second before he grabbed your right wrist and pinned it above your head, scolding you for daring to inflict pain upon him. His hand squeezed your wrist so very firmly that no blood could pass into your hand. You whimpered as you felt the strain put on your bone, screaming out for him to stop as you had a premonition of what he was doing. Another involuntary mewl snuck past your lips as your walls clenched around his length in response to him putting more power into his pushes. 

He growled into your skin, his breath hasty as he had lost himself in his pleasure, close to finishing right into your sore little hole. His climax caused him to lose all grip on his powers, sending strong jolts though your body causing you to shake violently as his hand cramped around your wrist. Your exhausted whimpers and cries at the sensation of electricity and friction turned into an agonized scream as you felt your bone snap, the horrid sound of it making you forget all of your surroundings and cause you to only be aware of the remorseless pain spreading through your arm. 

You could not different but lean forward, your forehead resting on his shoulder as you sobbed and cried from the pain while he released himself into you. 

“Please….” you whispered “anyone… Please help me”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :> Hi there, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope I didn't do too poor of a job with this one, for it's my first time writing smut :/


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I've been absent for so long! I had a bit of trouble with my exams and had family over for the holidays so the story kinda got pushed on the back burner unfortunately. I hope you aren't too disappointed because of the long wait and promise to update more frequently from now on! This chapter is rather uneventful because I chose to show off the doc's personality for a bit, so hopefully you enjoy the chapter nonetheless!

The pain was bad, the memories worse.

You felt as if you had been thrown into the deepest pits of the ocean, unable to breathe and colossal pressure squeezing your insides.

You could barely recall the aftermath of the incident in the bathroom.

As you sobbed into the muscular shoulder of your tormentor you felt his hands wander to the sides of your head and sending strong electric currents through your body.

Everything after that was a blur. You couldn't tell if that was where it ended or if he had continued to misuse your body. After all, there was a significant time frame unaccounted for between your mind being fried and consumed by a heavy fog and your awakening in that damn sterile room.

The last thing you remembered was him gently humming that cursed tune as he rode out his orgasm.

However, all that was unimportant when you woke up again. You literally bent in half at the pain roaring in your abdomen. It was horrendous. It ached like your legs would ache after sprinting for hours, it stung like the blade of a knife and the muscles contorted like they were devouring themselves, making the pain much worse than anything you had ever felt before. You gasped for air as the contorted muscles in your torso made it harder to draw breath and your hands pressed against your warm stomach in hopes of soothing the pain. And if the pain from your lower regions wasn’t enough you could barely move your right hand. Every time you dared move a muscle in your hand it felt as if your whole arm was set on fire. It was mind-numbing agony. No, mind-numbing didn’t cut it; it was absolute brain-melting misery. The pain was enough to make you wish to be returned to the trials, but the memories had you wanting to scream, to cry and die. 

You gasped and whimpered as you tried your best to regain your composure, yet you could not muster the will to overcome this state. You wanted it to be over. Everything was sore, everything hurt and everything from his bites on your neck down to the imprints of his hands on your thighs made you recall him defiling you.

You might have been unable to recall the events that brought you back into this room, yet you could remember the things he did to you, the things he made you feel in all their atrocious glory. 

You would have rather had him paint the floor with your guts than use you in that sort of manner.

It was bad, yet despite falling into the deepest pit of sorrow and shame you could not cry. You couldn't explain why your body wasn't shaking, why tears weren't rolling down your soft face. What you could feel was a gaping hole deep inside of you from where bitterness and guilt were crawling out from.

Bitterness from not being able to stop it, from everything he did to you and guilt for finding somewhat even remotely close to pleasure due to his actions. No, not guilt; you hated every fibre of your own self for not being able to deny the fact that there was something not unlike pleasure in the cluster of sensations you felt.

You could bet that would you cry out for the Entity it would gladly swoop in and feed on your gloomy emotions until there was nothing left of you but a cold and lifeless husk.

But you were not desperate enough to go down that path. At least yet. For now there was something in you that kept you from doing that. Perhaps it was hope, perhaps your self-preservation instincts, maybe fear of worse things to come after offering yourself to this sick and twisted god-like creature. 

A soft thud had the hair on your neck standing upwards. While being occupied with the pain and thoughts spiralling inside your mind you failed to notice the presence of someone ... quite noticeable.

In an instant you found yourself able to bite through the ache, turning your head towards the chair and table to the left. You pulled your legs towards your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you stared at him in horror. You would have yelped at the strain you put on your body, yet the fear the doctor sparked inside of you was enough to overpower that urge.

Unlike you he seemed quite at ease. He had his head tilted to the side, his legs crossed and one hand remaining on the book he just set down on the table as his curious eyes observed you.

"Good morning" he said nodding in your direction as a gentle sigh escaped his lips. You bit your tongue as you inched as far into the backboard of the bed as possible, gripping your legs tightly despite the injuries. 

The old wood squeaked as the tall male got up from the chair, slowly approaching your bed as he said “I hope you rested well”. 

Your eyes scanned his body, noticing some sort of object in his hand, yet not being able to tell what it was due to your eyes shifting back to meet his face. You searched for any emotion to prepare you for his next actions, you looked for malice, for lust, for delight, yet you found nothing put patience in his features. 

You remained silent, your horror filled, glassy eyes staring up at him as you expected the worst. His hand reached for your face, yet you evaded his grasp. 

“Don’t touch me” you whined, begged in a meek voice while leaning away from him as far as possible. For a moment you saw annoyance building up within his eyes. However, the man in front of you seemed to calm after taking in a deep breath.

He held the item you couldn’t quite recognize earlier out to you, waiting for you to take it. It was a small orange bottle, filled with many pills. 

“I’m no monster” he stated, his voice soft and calm. You’d argue about that if you were in a position to talk back like that, but you remained silent yet again, not daring to take your eyes off of him and unsure of taking whatever he was offering you. You didn’t want to take them, but what choice did you have anyway?

Eventually, after a short stare down you reached with your right hand, whimpering and retracting it as you felt the broken bone cry out from strain. He was quick to open the bottle himself and pick out two pills and instead offer to feed you those. You scooted a bit closer, not bothering to question what drugs he wanted you to take this time, simply being to worn out to even consider resistance after what he had done to you the day before. You opened your mouth, allowing him to place the tasteless pills onto your tongue and swallowing them in an instant, hoping that he wouldn’t take you again. “The Fentanyl should help with your wrist, and any other areas that cause you anguish.” He said after an uncomfortably long minute of complete silence and tension. So more drugs. If there were no more pressing issues you’d worry about getting addicted. 

You would be thankful, yet you could not but question why he would bother with easing your discomfort, considering how little your consent and wellbeing meant to him the day before.

“I wish to examine your body.” He then stated “You might have bruises unaccounted for.”

You looked at him with your big scared eyes, looking like a cornered kitten and feeling just as helpless. Would he have you strip down again? Stare and grope at your body again before forcing himself upon you? And why, just why did he bother stating his intentions? It wasn’t as if you were able to do anything about it, so why even give you the illusion of choice, the illusion of this being normal and pretending like you could refuse? Why couldn’t he just say “I will” or “I’m going to”? You were not, absolutely not in a position to say no to any of his wicked requests, and by giving you the illusion of refusal it felt like you were consenting to his actions by not taking the chance of speaking up and risking worse treatment. 

“If you would kindly stretch your torso” he requested “It will make examination easier”

You sheepishly raised your arms above your head, allowing him access to your body as you scooted closer and sat at the edge of the bed, your feet almost touching the cold floor tiles. 

Fuck. You did use this word quite often. Using it when you stubbed your toe, or dropped your favourite Starbucks coffee. But never had it been more appropriate to use than now, and yet you dared not utter the word when his massive hands begun touching you. First his hands went over your neck and shoulders, squeezing, brushing and feeling for anything that might seem off other that the bruises he left in the first place. Then those cruel, freezing hands went to feel your collar-bone, his fingertips barely touching your skin as he watched for your reactions. And then came the part you feared most; your chest. Yet, to your surprise his hands did not fondle your soft bosom, instead feeling your chest up and down and quickly moving on to your ribs not paying any more attention to your chest than what he deemed necessary to determine whether or not there were any injuries needing care. Still, he lingered too much, his touch seemed too strong, his gaze to intent to be compared to the quick and task-oriented check-ups of other doctors. For a moment you feared he might even engage you again, but he didn’t. 

“Do forgive me” he said, placing his hands flat next to your hips on the mattress, causing his back to hunch and meet you face to face when he noticed your discomfort. His glowing eyes stared right into yours, right through your scared orbs and right into your very soul. “It has been quite a while since I got to handle another person. As you might guess it is quite the novelty to touch a live and well body after all this time” he stated, his expression and gaze unwavering as you struggled to stay in place. You were tempted to move away, to get as much distance between the two of you as possible, but the proximity and sheer presence of him had you reduced to a scared bunny facing the big bad wolf. 

But being given this information had a switch turn in your mind. Maybe you were too quick to assume, after all you were no psychologist, but something made you think he was lonely. After all, if his clothing was any indication of his past, he must have spent at least half a century in this rotten place. That, however, caused your gears to turn even more. He didn’t choose to engage you in conversation to combat his loneliness, if it was loneliness at all like you assumed and not pure malice and self-indulgence that made him keep you. He didn’t choose to go about making you his friend, he choose to have you as a toy, handling, bending and mending you to his desires. And he would toy with you for as long as it brought him joy, for as long as it took him to satiate that sorrowful hunger we call loneliness. 

That assumption brought you both peace and fear, for it meant you would not spend a long time here if you were lucky, yet you could not see him letting you simply go about your life after he had his fill. Plus, whatever amount of time he did choose to keep you around for was too long considering the things he did to you. It was a bittersweet hope you created for yourself, easily shattered if you were wrong about his desire to quench his thirst for comfort, and considering this beast of a man had been slaughtering for half a century, torturing and raping to his heart’s content; it was all to likely that you were wrong, and that your presence was just warranted by his desire to inflict pain and receive pleasure for as long until you were a lifeless vessel, tormented, disgraced and ready to be brought to the entity as an offering to appease it, and not an innate craving for company and comfort. 

“Y/N” he said, bringing you back from your thoughts, his face now much closer and electricity sizzling among his hands, slightly tickling your thighs. “Do tell what’s on your mind” 

“nothing” you whispered shyly. How had he caught on to your brooding that quickly? Well, maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise, he was a doctor and psychologist after all. 

He crooked an eyebrow at your obvious lie, his hands grabbing your thighs and sending a mild shock to clarify that he wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

“I-“ you begun as you felt your body shivering “I don’t understand why” 

“Why what?” he mused, knowing what you meant, yet enjoying watching you struggle to say it out loud. 

He was really curious about you. He would have placed a bet that by now, you’d finally act up. The first time assault was always a breaking point, and all he had tortured previously had been in hysteria by now. Yet you kept all that turmoil inside, your experience rather triggering timidness rather than hostility. He knew that your response wasn’t that uncommon, but he failed to experience it first hand before, for previously the entity made sure to bring in proper fighters into the trials. But you, you were clearly not one of those fierce bitches he had the pleasure of breaking before. 

Maybe he’d write a case file about you after all. 

“Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to you?” you asked, tears welling up in your eyes as you hoped for any kind of empathy from this wicked being. 

“I have told you before, haven’t I? You are here to bring me pleasure.” He answered, disregarding the last part of your question as he slowly walked over to his desk, never averting his eyes from you. “And pleasure me you will” he chuckled as he grabbed the book from his desk and made his way back over to you. “Just not today” he then added, placing the book next to you on the bed, clearly gesturing that you were free to do whatever you wanted with it. 

He knew better than anyone else that a bored mind was quick to turn to either aggression or depression, and neither was he willing to put up with.

And since he did not feel like bending you to his desires that day, he concluded that his time was better spent reworking files than babysitting you. However, the day was young, and it wasn’t out of question that you could attempt to escape, which he of course would have to put you in place for. 

“My office is at the end of the hallway if you’ll need some more medication against the pain. This time you’ll have to work for it though” he said, his grin as sadistic as it was when he watched you cry as he raped you.

You watched him leave the room, barely keeping it together as your mind was in overload over his quick, almost schizophrenic constant change in nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter isn't set in stone yet, and considering I've had you waiting on this one for so long I decided to have you guys decide what kind of action will be happening in the next chapter.   
I've been having two ideas I'm going to keep very ambiguous to not spoil the fun, but you are free to suggest anything, ANYTHING you want. So feel free to choose between:  
a) Working for some meds  
b) failing to find the office  
c) your own suggestions


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grrrr. Dang it. I wanted to upload way sooner than this. Unfortunately I found myself struggling with my depiction of Carter due to the new revelations we got in the Archive and had to make a few adjustments in this chapter and future drafts, thus working myself into a bit of a dilemma on how I wanted to continue the series. But I got to a point now that I feel comfortable and confident about so I hope there won't be any more long pauses between chapters (unless we get more archive content for the doc in the near future, which should that happen; I'm sorry in advance).

You let out a deep breath as you brushed your hand through your hair to comfort your shivering self. Work? You cringed at his words, your brows furrowing in disgust as you kept yourself from sobbing. 

You felt the pain fading, your muscles no longer throbbing. Whatever medication your captor had access to were some next level drugs. You’ve taken pain relievers before, mostly against menstrual discomfort, but they didn’t work nearly as quickly as whatever he gave you. 

It felt heavenly to be freed from the ache. It was close to the best feeling you experienced in a long time. And yet that pain was sure to return when the drug wore off, and your only hope of relaxation was to take another dose; to ask him for more.

How sick, how loathsome to withhold medication that would ease your suffering for what you could only guess to be sexual favours. 

No. There was no way you’d even consider setting foot into the hallway, let alone agree to his devilish deal. 

An idea came to mind. Perhaps you would leave your room after all. Maybe you could make a break for it. Maybe there was a way to slip away while he was occupied in that office of his. It was as if a little voice inside your head was suggesting to flee; tempting you to take advantage of this situation. It was urging you to run while he was gone and while your pain was numbed. But you couldn’t. No matter how much you wanted it, how much that voice in your mind begged you to do just that, you couldn’t. 

Your rational thoughts suffocated that meek voice within moments. The Doctor was a smart man, an unbelievably cruel man and this was his turf; his twisted kingdom; his home. If you would run, how could you even hope to navigate this labyrinth of a hospital, let alone evade and escape the skilled inhabitant of it? He would hunt you as soon as he would hear so much as the creak of a door. And when he’d catch you, oh when he’d lay his hands on you again he would make sure you’d suffer much, much, so much more than you could have ever imagined. 

You were quick to force your mind away from the subject, for the thought of having such an opening, yet no hope of actually escaping, only served to upset you further. 

Instead you begun moving your right hand, checking the mobility and how much of the pain the medication was able to put to silence. Moving your hand barely hurt, however, you did feel the broken bone move in unnatural ways when you checked the manoeuvrability of your fingers and palm, so you decided to stop your shenanigans before you either ruined the meticulously applied bandages or further damaged your bone. 

All his horrible deeds aside, you did have to admit that, quite apparently, the Doctor knew his craft very well.

Your left hand travelled down your neck, trying to get a feel for the damage dealt to you. Your fingers felt the imprints of his teeth, felt the smooth bandages he put over his deepest and most barbaric bite. You were certain that it was a horrible sight to see. With your throat already blue and purple from his previous strangulation the bites must have looked even more savage than to begin with. Even if you would have had a mirror in that damned room of yours you wouldn’t have looked at yourself. You didn’t want to see the wounds and be reminded of how you got them. No, you couldn’t look at yourself. You feared that you would see too much shame, too much sorrow and fear in your once so bright and joyful eyes. You were disgusted. You felt dirty and sullied. You simply could not even fathom words to describe how frustrated and appalled you were because of what happened, and how filthy it made you feel. How weak and helpless it made you feel. 

And to think that this was how you’ve lost your virtue. To think that this was your first time of intimacy with another person. It’s detestable. You’ve imagined it to be mellow, romantic and beautiful. You’ve imagined it to be something memorable and something that you would always look back to with a soft sigh and a sweet smile. You’ve imagined it to be with someone your heart ached for, someone you loved with all your being, so much so that even breathing would hurt without them around. 

But it wasn’t any of that. It was horrible, it was painful and it was with someone who scared the living daylights out of you. But the worst thing was that, in fact, it was quite memorable. You could barely keep the memories, the flashing images of his wide, curious, brutal eyes and corrupt grin at bay. You could still feel his icy hands upon you, his scorching hot mouth and teeth against your neck, still hear his ragged breathing and grunts and still feel his fierce, yet eerily irregular heartbeat against your palms. 

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks like morning dew from luscious leaves. You couldn’t tell whether they were tears of anger, frustration, hopelessness or just complete and utter sorrow. Perhaps they were a result of all of those emotions. 

You knew that you had to stop, to seriously stop and put forth all the will and strength you had to quit thinking, remembering those things. It did you no good and you would rather not think about what had transpired in the first place. But it was so hard. It was as if all your thoughts kept spiralling back to the previous events, no matter how hard you tried burrow those memories. 

You tried thinking back to a better time, tried to think about your family and previous life. Yet it only served to remind you of what bliss and innocence you have been robbed of ever since being brought into the fog. 

Other memories. You needed something else to recall, something positive, something to ease your mind and yet not remind you of the peaceful life you had before. 

You remembered your first night; sitting on a warm log watching the fire dance in the darkness as you quietly sobbed and whimpered while Claudette tended to your wounds. That night you had gotten your first cleaver to the back. Not a very pleasant experience, yet something that did in fact seemed to calm you as you recalled the kindness and care of your fellow survivors. You remembered Claudette’s soft voice telling you that everything was going to be okay as she sewed the wound with a crude needle and applied a paste of herbs she gathered from the woods. You remembered Dwight taking your hand into his and giving you a skewed smile as he said that they’ve all been through the same and that you’ll get used to it. You remembered Nea wrapping her arms around you and silently holding you until that waterfall of tears dried out. You remembered David patting your shoulder and telling you that he would look out for you. 

You’d take hundreds of cleavers to the back; you’d be okay with being cut into tiny pieces and served on a silver platter if that meant that you could return to the campfire. Getting murdered and butchered day in and day out wasn’t something you were too keen on, yet you would much rather take it over the doctor’s treatment. Just a few precious days prior you couldn’t have imagined yourself wishing to participate in the trials. The thought of how quickly this change occurred seemed bizarre and forced a slight smile on your lips. Laughable isn’t it? You wondered if there was something worse than this, something that would even make you want to pick your current situation over it, and you hoped and prayed with all you had to offer that there wasn’t. 

Hope and prayers. That’s all you had. 

For now all you could do was simply wait. Pray to be freed from the monsters grasp and hope for mercy. Meg would have slapped you seven ways from Saturday had she heard you speak those grim thoughts out loud. 

She would have told you to run nevermind the consequences and to take any chance you’d get to give him absolute hell. 

But Meg was strong. She was experienced and brave. And you were none of those things. 

You wondered how many times Meg stood her ground against these monsters, how many times she flashed her determined eyes at her opponents and fought against them tooth and nail despite how badly the odds were stacked against her. You wondered how many times she refused to give up hope when those quick legs of hers were entrapped by bone crushing jaws of steel, how many times she spat some witty comeback at her tormentors when they painted the walls with her guts, how many times she got herself out of grim predicaments by sheer force of will. And you wondered if you could ever hope to be as tenacious as her.

Oh how you wished you even had a drop of her bravery, a drop of her confidence. If you were just a little bit like the other survivors, a little more courageous, a little more experienced and a little more determined, maybe you could have gotten the odds to turn in your favour.

But you’ve had a taste of his atrocious strength; he could snap your spine in but a second. He could inflict unheard of pain upon you. He could bend your body to his desires as easily as a warm knife could cut through butter. Waiting it out was your only option if you didn’t want to be beaten and raped within an inch of your life, or worse. 

Pathetic. You felt pathetic. 

By god, it wasn’t as if you had given up, although you were close to it. You just couldn’t see any way to free yourself from this predicament without risking a whole new world of agony and despair. If you wouldn’t have known with utmost certainty that fleeing was to no avail, you would have tried.

Although, what was there you could do? Wait it out? Grit your teeth and bear whatever he did to you until he lost interest? Impossible. 

You needed a distraction from your hazardous thoughts. The more you thought, the more you considered, the more you realized how futile your situation was. You were a beaten dog trapped in a cage at the mercy of it’s owner. You knew that, for he made that painfully clear. And the worst thing was that the master let the cage door open, daring his little pup escape; dangling an unreachable prize right in front of you. 

In an instant your gaze fell upon the book Dr. Carter had given you. It looked fairly old and seemed to have been handled quite often, yet it remained in immaculate shape. Perhaps that book could help you forget your predicament and memories for just a little while. “Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov“ you read aloud. Oh the irony. If the situation wouldn’t have been so grim and morbid you would have laughed. Of course he would be into that kind of stuff.

It was a story about a wicked love, about a rotten love, if you could even call it “love”, between a man and a child that plays the latter like a puppet; controlling and manipulating her mind and body to his heart’s content. How disgusting and how relevant to your situation. 

You felt revolted. You wanted to throw up. The realization that he was a sadist to the core hit you one more time like a punch in the gut. His taste in literature could hardly be called a surprise, yet you wouldn’t have expected him tasteless enough to hand you a book so relevant to your current position. 

It was ridiculously vile how similar the story was to your own predicament. The story wasn’t an exact parallel of your situation, but the gist remained almost identical. What did he seek to accomplish by having you read such a story? 

Wasn’t having his way with you enough? Did he really feel the need to torture you in such a cruel manner? 

You barely stopped yourself from hurling the book at a nearby wall, not wanting to attract his wrath by breaking his things even though he had no inhibitions in breaking your body. 

You half sobbed as you made your way over to the barred window in an attempt to distract yourself. “He truly is a monster” you thought as your eyes found themselves glued to the thick fog surrounding the forest outside. 

Meanwhile, the doctor was seated quite comfortably in his armchair as he quickly and attentively worked on his files; unaware of your distress and repulsion. Though, even if he knew he would have hardly cared. There were countless notes from previous experiments that needed to be documented properly and sorted into his cabinets. There were enough drafts and reports to keep him busy for months on end, never mind the old documents that fell prey to time and decay and were therefore in need of restoration. There was no time to waste, for how could he allow all his research to go to waste? 

He cracked his fingers as he put the pen aside after having finished writing his report on a phenomena he observed in his previous test subject. It was a previous survivor. He had snatched her after she had the audacity to damage one of his cabinets filled with documents and reports during a trial. She was a beautiful young woman, more than gifted in all the right places, he had to give her that. Yet she had a nasty and obnoxious vocabulary and an equally as annoying attitude. He more than just enjoyed showing that bitch her place. Breaking her pride down bit by bit filled him with utmost content. He revelled in her expression when he finally broke her spirit after forcing himself upon her just moments after having ripped that disgustingly inappropriate tongue out of her mouth. 

Aside from fucking virgins, there was barely a greater joy than suffocating someone’s will to fight.

His knee jerked upwards as excitement rushed through his veins when he pictured the helpless look in your eyes as he released himself into you. The memory of you leaning against his shoulder as your body ceased all resistance had heat rise in his groin. That look of horror as your body failed to tell pain from pleasure was mesmerizing; beautiful.

He was snapped out of his daydream when the impact of his knee with the table caused a mug to spill the remnants of his long-forgotten coffee. In mere moments the doctor jumped out of his armchair to prevent his elegant pants from getting dirtied and yanking whatever documents he could save from the table, watching as the brown liquid tainted his hard work. This was bad. Frustration overtook him as he hit his fist against the table. How unprofessional of him. He shouldn’t have diverted his attention from his task. Now he was stuck cleaning up and saving his precious documents. He growled as he threw the ruined papers into a bin next to the table, his other hand reaching to massage the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he ought you a visit after all to satisfy his carnal urges and focus on his work. 

However, in his panic he failed to notice that you had succumbed to your pain after the drugs wore off and were now roaming the hallways, failing to walk straight due to your injuries. 

It was horrid. You were completely lost in thought as an ominous sting begun growing in your abdomen. It didn’t take so much as an hour before you sunk to your knees and gasped for air while the pain in your lower body roared like a hungry beast and spread through your whole torso and legs. At first you thought that you could brave the ache, that you could curl up into a ball and that the pain would fade. But you couldn’t. 

You couldn’t even think straight. Not a single comprehensive thought could be formed by your brain as it was overwhelmed with the impulses of pain. You were still on the fence about “working” to be relieved of the agony, but another deep throb of your muscles convinced you that maybe, maybe just this once you could swallow your pride and grit your teeth through the ordeal to find peace once more.

It was amazing what pain could push people to do. 

It was an equally amazing coincidence that you chose this of all moments to search for your captor. For him being occupied with the mess he created allowed you to accidentally slip into another set of corridors as you failed to find the right door due to the pulsing pain clouding your vision and mind. 

You grappled at nearby walls to keep yourself on your legs as it was so horridly difficult to move your hips with the pain soaring up mercilessly with every step. You sought for a door, the door, some door that had his name written on it, or at least the word OFFICE on it. You steadied yourself on a table as you continued to limp though the cold and empty corridor. The lighting was neigh to unbearable due to it’s brightness and the cold coming through the cracks in the barred windows certainly didn’t do you any favours. 

You shivered when a gust of wind took hold of your hair, tickling your neck in the process. It almost felt as if someone, no, something just breathed down your neck. You turned and looked around the corridor, worried that perhaps the doctor had noticed your antics and was now on your heels. 

Panic begun to settle in your gut as you slowly realized that you had gotten yourself lost. You whimpered as you imagined what he would do to you if he was to find you roaming the corridors. You looked back the way you came, trying to trace your steps back. 

“It’s okay” you told yourself “I just got lost. I’ll tell him I got lost, he’ll understand”

He wouldn’t believe you. 

The thought hit you like a brick. Of course he wouldn’t. He’d think you tried to make a run for it. 

Your breath hitched as you frantically begun to scan your surroundings. 

That way? Maybe this? I saw a pile of folders over there, no? Maybe here?

You almost yelped as you checked the rooms, trying to find the corridor you came from originally. This, however, proved to be much more difficult with your legs begging you to rest and your vision clouded by agony. 

You had to make it back before he noticed you gone, if he hadn’t already.

You propped yourself on nearby furniture to keep from falling as you continued to walk down the cold corridor in search of any clue as your adrenaline rose with every passing second. 

How? Why? Damn it. It just had to go south, didn’t it? You wiped the upcoming tears from your eyes as you imagined his wrath when he was to find you. Why, oh why did you have to leave that goddamn room? Suffering from the agony of your previous injuries would have been much better than what the doctor was about to do to you when he was to find you roaming the facility. 

With every step you took, a shock of pain pulsated from your hips right to your brain, causing your vison to blur with every throb. You whimpered when you put too much weight onto your right hand, in an attempt to steady yourself, instantly retracting it from the furniture.

In your hurry and clumsiness however, your hand got caught on a metal tray with all sorts of equipment on it, sending it to down to the floor and creating the tell-tale sound of clinkering steel. 

Your eyes widened in horror as the sound rung in your ears like an airhorn. If he didn’t know you were lost before, he certainly was aware now. 

The doctor shot up from his position, his hands tight fists as he channelled the electricity in his palms and shortly after sending it through the ground beneath him. His pupils shrunk as his iris begun glowing as bright as the lighting above him. The sound that gave you away didn’t seem far, yet his blast of sparks didn’t seem to reach you, for he didn’t hear your screams. 

He was seething with rage. Of course he kept the possibility of you trying to escape in his mind, yet he didn’t expect you to show defiance after being so meek earlier and neither did he expect you to be sneaky enough to use his moment of distraction to push your luck. 

How disobedient of you. Perhaps he went too easy on you before. Perhaps he ought to teach you to value his politeness and “re-educate” you on your clearly disrespectful behaviour.

He yanked his lab coat from the stand and yanked the door to his office open with such ferocity that the resulting bang from the tiled wall and wood roared through the hospital like a bomb through a warzone. 

His steps were loud and heavy as he made his way to the source of the sound. 

This time he would teach you a proper lesson. He would make sure it wouldn’t be over quickly. He would make you’d scream until your throat went sore, sob and cry until breathing became impossible and shatter every bone in your arm, from the very fingertips to your shoulder. This time he’d make sure you wouldn’t be able to walk at all. 

Your heart almost stopped when you heard the impact, your face turning paler than it already was and a vile taste spreading in your mouth as you felt the sudden urge to vomit. 

A part of you gave up the second you heard the sound of your approaching demise, another part of you was desperately clawing at the inside of your brain for survival, yelling, no, screeching at you to move and find a place to hide. Yet that part, as carnal and strong as it was, could barely put up with the desperation soaking every fibre of your being. You were frozen in place, not even breathing as you stared at the tools scattered on the ground, watching your tears drop onto the tiles. Your left hand instinctively reached towards your abdomen, resting on top of the throbbing flesh until the horrors of the previous day came flooding in and causing your hand to claw into your own skin until blood begun tainting your clothes.

The memories of hurt stirred something in you that caused you to move, to turn on your heels and limp towards the next set of doors, hoping that by some heavenly miracle you would find your way back to your room and evade his judgement. 

You could barely muffle your sobs as you furtively kept on checking each corridor, each room for any sort of clue, beginning to hear his aggravated steps inch closer with every passing moment. His gait was scary, straight up seething with dominance and tearing your already strained nerves to pieces, sending shivers down your spine as you oh so desperately clung to the fainting hope of escaping this predicament unscathed. 

You turned a corner, walking through a door that lead you to another corridor, gasping for air as your pounding heart demanded more oxygen. This had to be it. The corridor was long and straight and had a green-ish door at the far end of it, similar to the one leading to the bathroom he assaulted you in earlier. This HAD to be the one. You stumbled towards the door on the left, towards the door you assumed to be your room. 

You felt a sense of relive wash over your body as you spotted a neatly made bed, yet that soothing feeling was ripped from you when you noticed that it wasn’t your bed, that this ones sheets were drenched in dried blood and the walls of this room were covered in desperate red handprints. 

You sobbed as you stood in the middle of this mess, your heart and hope shattered, so much so occupied with self-loathing and self-pity that you barely noticed the loud steps coming to a halt. 

There he stood. His shoulders straight, eyes glowing and his head tilted to the side as he silently observed you from the doorway. You yelped when you turned, stumbling back as you put your left arm defensively in front of your face. “I-I” you began in a last attempt to save yourself, tears already rolling down your flushed face as he still seemed to not make a move towards you. You saw electricity sneak around his features. He must have been absolutely livid. “I- I- I- I d-didn’t try to…” you cried, stopping as you watched him approach, his gaze unreadable, his movements slow and controlled, yet his eyes filled with flames of wrath; torturing you as you waited for him to lash out on you. “I really d-didn’t try to run” you whispered as you continued to stumble backwards. “I swear. I just got lost”. You tucked your right hand closer to your body as you wiped the tears from your eyes with the other as your lips quivered. You yelped again when you felt your hips hitting the edge of a table. “P-Please” you whimpered as you were now trapped against the furniture “I didn’t m-mean to…”. His hand made a dismissive gesture as he loomed over you, his great frame casting a shadow on you as you failed to contain your sad little whimpers and cries. He wasn’t having it. 

You jumped when you heard the loud crashing of his fists against the table behind you; trapping you between his arms, practically forcing you onto the table as his eyes burned through you. “Please-“ you cried “It’s the truth”. You braced yourself for his electricity, for an impact, for him tearing your pants from you and claiming you like a hound would his bitch.

For a second his gaze seemed to relax.

His hands swiftly shifted from their positions to forcefully grab your upper arms and squeeze them with such strength that for a moment you feared he might break them. His eyes took on a mischievous glint as he slightly shook his head repeatedly making a “shhh” like sound to quiet your frightened whimpers. 

“Such a sad lie” he then stated once you quieted down, causing your heart to sink to the bottom of hell.


End file.
